an Ode to Beauty::
Dear Faithful, passionate, mended heart,
where for in which we Begin-
A tragedy not spoken by my still beating?
A travesty unseen by the Unseeing?
A care unworn by time Untold,
for in Ages long past,
in a Time where we'd never grow old.
An endless summer to idle reverie
ever unbroken our sun basked fantasy,
of a time where never we ended this Dream.
The spring's breezed kiss a lasted memory,
and our Autumn's first Mist the only remedy,
to the Burning, yearning, Passionate Heart;
the thirst a flaming embattlement awaiting the Start;
a call from the Walls and a carry to Arms
all in the notes of an Ode to Beauty.